


cause for concern

by cliche_username



Series: team-work makes the dream work [1]
Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: Anxiety, Anxiety Attacks, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, OT3RACHA, depression not otherwise specified, discussion of intrusive thoughts/self-harm ideation, mentions of other skiz
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-27
Updated: 2019-01-27
Packaged: 2019-10-17 10:36:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,444
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17558801
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cliche_username/pseuds/cliche_username
Summary: Jisung's anxiety is bothering him, and Changbin notices.





	cause for concern

**Author's Note:**

> dedicated to that lovely person who read adrenaline and mentioned they'd love to know what changbin would have done! it was a very important question and one I felt immediately compelled to answer. ^^ 
> 
> like the last fic, this does mention intrusive thoughts and self-harming ideation. if that doesn't fly with you please feel free to skip from "kind of like a roaring" to "Jisung's expression softens a little bit", or to backspace off this page entirely. please do take care of yourselves! otherwise, hope you enjoy.

It’s not that Changbin doesn’t know about the things Jisung and Chris struggle with.  He  _ knows.  _ He’s a part of this. He’s been through the bad days, when Chris has to be borne up and Jisung held down for fear either of them might get hurt. It’s just that he’s-- he’s not _ like _ them. His brain works fine, unless it’s exceeded the average limit of the human brain’s capacity. He and his brain are on the same side, so it-- it scares the shit out of him to think that Chris’s and Jisung’s aren’t. Both of them know this: they make light of it to each other, finding solace in a shared burden, but it’s not something they try to share with him. It’s balance: Changbin supports them in all the ways he can, and in turn they protect him.

Sometimes, of course, none of them get a choice. 

It’s a four-hour bus ride from Busan back to Seoul, and nine out of nine are worn ragged by the time they get back on the road. It shows differently on each of them, but some things are easy to pick out: Chris falling asleep on Jeongin’s shoulder before they’re ten minutes down the road, Minho plugging in his headphones and closing his eyes two minutes after that, a particular silence from the seat Woojin’s claimed for himself. Maknae line (+Hyunjin) do their best to keep the party going for a little while, but even Felix and Seungmin are drooping. They wind up dozing on each other’s shoulders within the hour, and Hyunjin goes to snuggle with Woojin. Changbin would be offended that he wasn’t chosen to cuddle with, except he’s got another target of concern at the moment.

Speaking of which.

Jisung’s claimed the row right in front of Changbin, and through the gap in the seats Changbin can see him curled up with his face buried in his knees and his headphones in. He’s been quiet since they put on their coats and left the fansign, and he hasn’t shown any signs as of yet but Changbin remembers at the fansign between activities he got up to chase Jeongin around the table and saw Jisung at the other end, spazzing very discreetly at the wrists. Changbin had gone back to his seat and immediately found a way to grab Jisung’s attention, and there hadn’t been any more to it. But that doesn’t mean there won’t be.

Changbin goes back to his phone. He stays there for several long moments, until something catches his periphery: the back of Jisung’s seat moved. As Changbin watches it moves again, like something’s hitting it from the other side.

Changbin takes off his headphones and leans forward. In the reflection of the bus window he can see Jisung’s head pressed into the back of the seat, a grimace pulled across his face, and then a jerk as his elbow digs into the back of his seat. 

Changbin unbuckles his seat belt and slips out of his row, into Jisung’s. Jisung looks up at him as he fastens his seat belt again, and Changbin offers him an open hand as soon as it’s free. Jisung takes it and pulls an earbud out with his free hand.

“Number?” Changbin asks. Jisung’s mouth mouth is a thin line as he considers it.

“Five,” he says. “It was a three for a bit. I think it was getting worse, my brain didn’t have a lot of places to go.”

“What is your brain saying?” Changbin asks. Abruptly Jisung’s expression closes off. His hand against Changbin’s loosens, but Changbin tightens his own grip. “I mean it,” he says. “Don’t let it sit in there.”

“You don’t want to hear it,” Jisung mutters. He presses his head harder against the back of his seat and it pushes his hood lower over his eyes. He doesn’t try to let go again, but his grip is still slack. No good-- unless there’s pressure it just makes the noise worse. Changbin squeezes a little tighter.

“I don’t want to hear,” he admits. “But this isn’t about me, Sung. It’s about making sure you’re okay. Assume that I can take it, and let it out.” 

Jisung’s expression tightens. His grip against Changbin’s tightens. He drags in a breath and lets it out, drags in another, and then he says, “It’s really, really loud.”

“How is it loud?” Changbin presses, turning his voice down a notch. Jisung winces anyway.

“Kind of a, like, a roaring,” he says. “Against the backs of my eyes, in my ears, spinning around in the big brain-cavity. Like a windstorm. And a headache. And when I try to think of ways to make it stop I get this, this impulse to smack my head against the window until something breaks. Probably me.”

Changbin winces. He can see it: Jisung’s muscles revolting and his body throwing itself against the glass. He swallows. How does Chris say it? “That… doesn’t sound like a very effective problem-solver.” 

Jisung’s expression softens a little bit and one corner of his mouth tilts upwards. “No, it really doesn’t,” he says, and huffs. “It’ll make an awful mess. No one will get to bed on time.” He pulls in another deep breath. His free hand reaches for the pulse point at the base of his jaw, and his hand in Changbin’s shifts. Changbin runs his thumb along the back of Jisung’s knuckles, slow and methodical, and Jisung winces.

“Sorry,” he murmurs. “The moving, it’s--”

“Alright, no moving,” Changbin says. “Sorry.”

“S’not your fault,” Jisung mutters. He shifts his head and the hood pulls back just enough to show that his eyes are open, just a little. 

“Number?” Changbin asks.

“Four.” The corner of Jisung’s mouth pinches. “The talking helps.”

“Good to know,” Changbin says. “Touch still good?”

“Touch still good,” Jisung says. “Feels. Um. Safe.” Changbin’s heart grows three sizes.

“Good,” he mumbles. “Um, during the fansign, were you--”

“I-- yeah,” Jisung replies. “And you said something dumb about flying pigs and the probability of Jeongin giving me kisses. Did you know?”

“I saw your hands,” Changbin murmurs. “It looked like you were trying to be discreet, and it probably would have worked and we’d all be in trouble.” Jisung huffs.

“I didn’t want to scare Jinnie,” he says. “If he realized he’d have started crying and then we’d all be in trouble.” Changbin snorts.

“We need a signal for in public, then,” he says. “Something that only people who won’t cry know, so you can tell us and we can… do something.” Jisung chuckles.

“Something that can blend in with all the weird shit we say at fansigns anyway but not be missed,” he says. “Easy-peasy.” Changbin snorts.

“It can be specifically weird shit,” he says. “Like, even yelling out a random number across the table is passably random-ass, but it might stop being discreet after a few incidents.”

“Anything would stop being discreet if we said it enough times,” Jisung says. Abruptly his grip tightens; his breathing goes in harsh between his teeth. Changbin squeezes back against him. 

“It’s not something to worry about,” he says. “It’s not even urgent. It’s something to think about, especially if it’ll make things easier for you without making a lot of fuss. I know you hate the fuss.” Jisung nods. 

“This feels like fuss, though,” he mumbles. 

Changbin huffs. “That’s the mean voice talking,” he says. “Because it wouldn’t know effective problem solving if it fell out of a window on top of you.” The remark startles a laugh out of Jisung, sharp and bright, and across the aisle Seungmin stirs. Jisung giggles a few more times and Changbin feels warm, a bit, and Jisung runs his thumb across Changbin’s knuckles once and tugs away. Changbin lets him go.

“Number?” He asks. Jisung tilts his head from side to side.

“Two-ish,” he says. “I feel like I could sleep. I really, really want to. I mean-- if Chris-hyung’s sleeping, everyone should be sleeping.” Changbin chuckles and wraps an arm around Jisung’s shoulders.

“This okay?” He asks. When Jisung nods he gently tugs him town to rest against his shoulder. “This too?” Jisung nods, and Changbin catches a smile meandering across his face. “Then sleep,” Changbin says. “I’ll wake you up when we get home.”

“Sounds good,” Jisung murmurs. “Sleep too, if you can, hyung.” He twists a little bit and settles more comfortably into Changbin’s side. Changbin waits until he’s completely settled and then he lets himself relax, a little at a time: as long as it takes to be sure that Jisung is truly asleep, and then he closes his eyes.

**Author's Note:**

> i'm on tumblr @captainpeggys and I occasionally post about han jisung/skiz/other random stuff. feel free to stop by and say hi. ^^ thanks for reading!!


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